


Virtuous

by BrownieFox



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Gen, Maes Hughes Lives, an au, ooh whats going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Maes Hughes doesn't die in the phone booth. A certain golden-haired alchemist saves him and offers him a chance to do something with his newly-gained knowledge. He has a plan to save Amestris - and it requires philosopher stones.





	1. But how cool would it be if he was a ghost?

Hohenheim placed his hands on Trisha’s stomach. She was  _ pregnant.  _ He was going to be a  _ father.  _ She was fast asleep at the moment, but Hohenheim just couldn’t help but to stay up and stare at her. She was just so amazing and beautiful. In all his years, he had never been as happy as he had been with her.

His brow furrowed as he checked her health. While Trisha herself was okay, the baby… he wasn’t doing too well. His heartbeat was too slow, nearly non-existent. If something wasn’t done, it would stop altogether. But there was no natural cause for it, that much Hohenheim was  sure of. No, the problem stemmed from Hohenheim himself. Being who he was,  _ what  _ he was, he had been afraid that it would result in not being able to have children, or baby dying before birth. But he was determined not to have that happen. 

As gently as he could managed, the immortal slipped his hand into Trisha’s stomach, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Luckily, she remained asleep, though her brow furrowed.

“Aiden, Knute, Cicely, Gaius, Aurelio, Akim, Iman, Mattoe, Myrcella, Jaako. Please, save my son.”

oOo

God, he couldn’t die.

He had a wife, a daughter.

His little, dear, sweet Elicia.

Fatherless.

His beautiful, kind, loving Gracia.

Widowed.

God, no no nO NO NO  _ NO NO NONONO!!! _

He couldn’t leave them!

But the bullet, the shot fired from that, that  _ thing  _ wearing his wife’s face like a cheap mask…

He was bleeding too much.

Why did there have to be so much blood?

He couldn’t make himself breath anymore.

His lungs refused to move.

The world didn’t exist to him anymore.

Was consciousness ever something he’d experienced?

If he was more aware, he’d know that something was digging into his bullet wound.

He’d feel something pulling out the bullet.

And something replacing it.

As it was, he was able to realize voices whispering at him, no more than whispering, rest.

He rested.

oOo

Maes Hughes.

That was his name. How strange that he’d forgotten it. Then again, he’d likely died. So perhaps that would explain it. It would look like he’d failed his wife and his daughter. Because if he had somehow managed to survive, he would feel crappy still. As it was, he felt no worse than he had before the lady with the ouroborus tattoo attacked him. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. What if he was a ghost, or in Hell? Surely he couldn’t go to Heaven, not only because of the massacre that was the Ishval, but because it would never be complete with his wife and daughter.

_ You should wake up. _

It was no more than an echo of a whisper. It was probably his own though. If his thoughts suddenly weren’t in his own voice. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath (could the dead really breath, or was it just habit?) and opened his eyes.

A ceiling. But… if he died outside… shouldn’t his ghost be outside? Eh, he was still new to all this dead stuff, what did he know?

He was in a bed, which felt real enough. So maybe not a ghost. Hell then? A hotel in hell perhaps? Or maybe he was just a really powerful ghost that could make itself tangible. That’d be pretty sweet. And then, he could use his ghost powers to protect his family and strategically place leaves or something into a message for Mustang. Ha, joke was really on his killer. As a ghost he’d be more powerful than ever!

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Crap, how did ghosts turn invisible? Because that’s what he needed right now. Maes was now sitting upright, hands reflexively positioned to hold knives that were not in his sleeves. Whatever he was wearing didn’t even have sleeves, which also seemed wrong. Weren’t ghosts stuck in the clothes they died in?

The guy who had spoken was a man of broad shoulders and decent muscles. His hands were in his pockets (possibility of weapons: high). He was wearing a dress shirt (folded sleeves - much harder to hide a weapon in) and a vest (not extremely loose - small or thin weapons possible). The man had long golden hair and eyes and a pair of glasses (old eyes, smart eyes, dangerous eyes?) and there was something very familiar about the man that Hughes just couldn’t put his finger on. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man said carefully, something sad in his eyes. 

“You didn’t.” Maes reassured him. He didn’t even know this (possibly dangerous) man, but his instincts were telling him the man wasn’t a threat. “Just startled me a bit.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I’m guessing I’m not dead then.” Maes reached for where his bullet wound had been, but even when his hand touched the spot where it had been there was no pain. “Did you heal me up? Some kind of alchemy?”

“ _ Some kind  _ of alchemy.” The man nodded. “With a bit of alkahestry thrown in for good measure.”

“Well, thanks.” Another pause. “I’m Hughes, by the way. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes.” Maes put his hand out.

“Van Hohenheim.” Hohenheim looked at the hand as if trying to remember what it was for before reaching out and shaking it. It was a firm shake.

“Thank you again for your help. Would it be okay if I use your phone? My wife and daughter are probably worried sick about me.” Maes’s hand went to reach into the inside pocket of his military uniform for his picture of his family but only succeeded in brushing across his chest. Right. Apparently not wearing that. What he was wearing was a plain t-shirt and what seemed to be pajama bottoms. His uniform was probably covered in blood anyway. That didn’t stop the moment of panic of oh-God-I-don’t-have- _ any- _ of-my-things, weapon or otherwise. “You should see  my Elicia, she is just the cutest little girl in the world. When she gets older she’ll be beating the men away with a stick.”

“She sounds great.” Hohenheim chuckled, but it sounded sad. “But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that.” 

If Maes hadn’t been on guard before, he definitely was now. His eyes began to dart around the room. Escape routes: unguarded door, slightly ajar, and window right next to Hohenheim. Weapons were few and far between. A pen, a book, an empty vase, and the chair the man was sitting in. Maes’ hands curled into fists.

“And why would that be?” The words came out bitterly. Hohenheim sighed, eyes not meeting Hughes.

“Mr. Hughes, you nearly died. Don’t you think they will try to take your life again if they find out you’re still alive?”

“Won’t they notice the lack of a corpse at the crime scene anyway?” Hohenheim didn’t respond. “Wait, are you telling me-”

“That I faked your death for you? Yes.” Maes was speechless. How was one supposed to act in this kind of situation?

“But, where’d you get a b-, oh God, it was alchemy wasn’t it.” Maes rubbed the bridge of his nose. What was even going on. “Look, I think you thought you were doing me a favor but I know somethings - really important things. We’re talking conspiracy that goes straight to the top.” The man stiffened.

“What kind of conspiracy?” Oh, Maes did not like that new edge in the voice.

“You probably wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Then humor me.” Hohenheim looked at the other man over the rims of his glasses, eyes definitely now looking dangerous.

“I’m no alchemist, but I can recognize a transmutation circle if it’s looking me in the face, and Amestris? It’s a giant one. And none of it looks good to me.” To the Lieutenant Colonel’s surprise, Hohenheim just sighed.

“Then you really can’t go.” Maes was now standing, fists shaking and wanting very much to punch the man in the face. He had a family to get back to and a friend to warn. He didn’t really have time to debate with this man. 

“And why not?!” 

“Because the homunculi will go after you again. They’ll chase you down and then they really  _ will  _ kill you.” The man sounded desperate. He was standing now too, hands still in his pockets. 

“And it will be worth it!” Maes was very much shouting now. “Because if I can get this to Roy then we can start planning! Even if I die, Roy will still fight and plan and stop whatever this is! I can’t just sit by when my family could very well be in danger!” 

“Then don’t.” Hohenheim was looking at him again. “You can’t do much if you’re dead. But I’m already working on countermeasures for the circle. If you join me, we can save Amestris.”

Maes could only stare. The man was completely serious. They barely knew each other.

“Why do you want my help?” Maes couldn’t help asking. “This is alchemy stuff, and as I said earlier, I’m no alchemist.” Hohenheim shrugged.

“The road can get a bit lonely at times.” He adjusted his glasses. “I know it would be hard. You’d have to drop any contact with your family, travel discreetly to avoid detection, live on few belongings with few breaks. But you’d be doing something more than lying in a grave.”

Maes was quiet.

“Well?” Hohenheim’s golden eyes stared deep into Maes soul as he continued. “Will you join me?”


	2. The Man Is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proper send off from those who care about Hughes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is inspired by 'The Woman's Dead' from the musical Curtains...  
> for honestly no particular reason other than i like the song

A window gently slid open.

A figure slipped in, quiet to match the silence of the night. He took careful steps towards the bed in the room, heart hammering in his chest. His shadow cast over the small figure beneath the blanket. He reached out, hand hesitating a moment before it actually touched the form. Gathering strength, he lightly shook her shoulder.

“Mm,” The little girl’s brow furrowed for a moment before green eyes blinked open. They locked onto the figure that had awoken her, widening at the man. “D-daddy?”

“Hey sweetie.” His voice was barely above a whisper

“Daddy! They were throwing dirt on you! I tried to step them, I promise!” The little girl leapt into her father’s arms, tears forming in her eyes from the relief of seeing him again. Hughes hugged her close, feeling comforted by her familiar warmth. “M-m-mommy said you weren’t coming home.” Her grip tightened

“Everything’s going to be okay.” He reassured her, carding his fingers through her hair before pulling back enough to look her in the eyes. She looked so happy and relieved to see him again. It was really not helping with what he had to do. “Elicia, I need you to be a big girl for me. Can you do that?” The little girl nodded eagerly. “You know how Daddy’s been busy with work lately? Well I’m  _ really  _ busy with work now. So now I have to go on a trip, okay? Like a big hide-and-seek game. So you’ll need to keep mommy okay for me. But you can’t tell anyone I’m not… hiding in the box anymore. It’s going to be a surprise much later.”

“Okay daddy.” Elicia chirped, and nestled her head against his chest again. She looked up again when she felt water splash onto her hair. “Daddy, why are you crying?”

“I just love and your mother so much.” Hughes kissed the top of her head. “I need to go now.”

“Wait! Tuck me in, tuck me in!” Elicia begged. Hughes smiled and tucked her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night baby.”

Leaving the room was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Did you talk to your wife and daughter?” Hohenheim asked as Hughes slipped into an alleyway. While Hughes had agreed to help the man, he had remained adamant on seeing his family. Eventually, Hohenheim had given in despite the danger it could put his companion in.

“I talked to my daughter. But I couldn’t see my wife. If I saw Gracia, I don’t think I’d be able to leave. And by seeing her, I could end up putting her in danger and I can’t loose her." It was still taking every iota of of his strength he had to not run back into the building and comfort his grieving wife. 

Hohenheim nodded.

“If there was another way, I would never ask this of you. Family is the most important thing in the world. But we have to protect it, save it. “It was very obvious the golden man had given this issue much thought. “It… it’s still not too late. You can go home right now. Maybe try hiding.”

“Weren’t you the one trying to convince me not to earlier?” Hohenheim just shrugged. Hughes sighed. “Well, let’s get going.”

o-o --- -o--

“Hi Roy, what brings you over?” Gracia gave the Colonel a tired smile. She looked exhausted. Roy couldn’t blame her.

“I just wanted to check up on you. I brought breakfast.” Roy held up the glass dish in his hands.

“Thank you. Please, come in.”

The Hughes household was tidy, almost painfully so. That is, until one reached the kitchen. Littering every surface was some sort of cake or prepared meal or bouquet of flowers. Roy glanced down at the breakfast in his hands awkwardly, suddenly feeling foolish. Gracia pulled out three plates, clearing a few spots on the dining room table that was overflowing with flowers. Despite the fact that the widow really didn’t need all of the things people were giving her, it was a testament to how much the community cared about the Hughes.

“How have things been lately?” Gracia asked as she readied three portions on the plates.

“We haven’t found any new information regarding Maes’ murd-”

“I’m asking how Roy is doing, not if Colonel Mustang has found out more about my husband’s death.” She placed the food in front of Roy and set two more places before pulling over a variety of drinks (undoubtedly from well-meaning friends that didn’t seem to realize a death meant one less mouth to feed and thus making the need for much food unnecessary).

“I’m… okay.” Roy answered very unconvincingly. His mind turned to the funeral and brushed under his eye as casually as possible as if to ensure that he wasn’t crying. He took a sip from a red liquid Gracia had poured him. It was bitter. “But I didn’t come to talk about me. I’m here to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m not okay.” She had that sad smile on her face again. “But I will be. One day.” Her fork played with her food. Gracia hadn’t eaten a single bite. “I can’t sleep at night. It’s like my body doesn’t realize that it doesn’t have to wait for him to come home before sleeping, like I’m still waiting for him to come home. And Elicia… she’s barely left her room since the funeral. I think she’s waiting for Maes to swing the door open and hug her like he used to.” Her voice was almost devoid of emotion, as if it had all been drained out of her. Roy looked down at his plate. The syrupy toast mush looked less appealing with the atmosphere that hung in the room. He set his fork down without taking a bite.

“Do you want me to bring Elicia’s breakfast to her?” He asked after moment of silence.

“That’d be nice. I’m sure Elicia will be happy to see you.” Gracia’s smile looked a little more real.

Roy went up the stairs with the third plate and knocked on the little girl’s door. There was a small whine followed by the patter of bare feet as the door opened. Elicia was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair for once not up in pigtails. Her eyes traveled up Roy until she saw his face, at which point her mouth split into a bright smile as she wrapped her arms around the Colonel’s legs.

“Uncle Roy!” She cheered. Despite the fact that she’d seen a lot of him the last few days, she never ceased to be excited when she saw him.

“Hey there.” Roy knelt down and ruffled her hair. “How’s my favorite little rascal doing?”

“Good!” Elicia jumped a bit. “Good enough for ice-cream!”

Roy chuckled.

“How about you start with breakfast.” Roy put the plate between him and Elicia. She looked at it eagerly, seeing as it was one of those breakfasts that had more sugar than nutrients. She reached out to take it but Roy lifted it out of her reach. “What if we had breakfast with your mom today?” Those two were the only family they had left, and Gracia could use some comfort. The girl nodded and followed Roy back to the dining room, where Gracia looked surprised to see her daughter no longer in the self-made exile of her room.  Roy placed the plate on the chair beside the widow and pouted a glass of milk for the child. They ate in silence for a while. ‘They’ being Elicia while Roy and Gracia continued to simply poke at their food and take the occasional bite. Roy was watching Elicia. Gracia had made it sound like the girl had been mourning too, but she seemed rather happy at the moment, carefree even.

“Elicia, do you miss your dad?” The words came from Roy’s mouth  before he could stop them. Damnit, Elicia was happy for the first time in days, why couldn’t he have let her stay that way for as long as she could?

“Yes,” Elicia nodded, seeming minimally bothered by the question. “But daddy’s just working  _ really  _ hard, so daddy will be back when he finishes work.” She took another bite of her breakfast. Gracia looked at her daughter sadly, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Elicia, honey, we’ve talked about this. Daddy isn’t going to be coming home.” Elicia looked at her mom in confusion before something seemed to dawn on her. Her mouth opened in a giant ‘O’ shape.

“Oh, oh, yeah, daddy’s not coming home.” She blinked purposefully at Gracia, and Roy got the feeling that it was her attempt at winking. Roy did his best not to sigh. It looked like Elicia had gone from the depressed stage of grief right back to the denial stage. But what could one expect of such a young girl? It may take weeks, months even for her to understand what happened to her father. The concept of death could be a hard one to grasp for some.

“I should probably get to work now.” Roy stood up. “It was nice talking with you.”

“It’s always nice to see you.” Gracia replied. Just before Roy left the doorway and went back to be Colonel Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, Gracia grabbed his arm. “But Roy, if you ever need anybody, I’m here. I may’ve lost my husband, but you also lost your best friend, a man you’ve gone through a war with.”

“Thank you.” Roy pulled the widow into a hug and told himself it was because she needed it, not him.

oOo

Hughes and Hohenheim had left as soon as Hughes had said his goodbye. Hohenheim had had to convince him to not sneak into Roy’s house. For one thing, the knowledge Hughes wanted to pass on to his old war buddy could put Roy into the same situation Hughes had barely survived from. And then there was the issue that if Hughes actually made it into Roy’s room without alerting the Colonel and having said man attack him as a ‘stranger breaking into his house’, then rousing the Colonel would probably get him burnt to a crisp. Hughes had pointed out that Roy didn’t wear his gloves to bed. Hohenheim had pointed out that Scar could’ve made the Flame Alchemist more cautious. In the end Hohenheim won. Which put them where they currently were: the cargo compartment of a train heading as far away from Central as they could go with the trains that had been available at the time.

“Alright, so what’s your plan?” While Hughes didn’t think the guy was going to attack him or anything, he still has a long way from saying he trusted the golden man. “If I’m going on some road trip with you, I’d like to know what the end goal of it is.”

“Well, you already know about the transmutation circle, right?” Hughes nodded. “Do you know what it does?”

“Besides obviously nothing good? No.” Hohenheim nodded thoughtfully, obviously deep in thought. He knelt down onto the metal floor of the carriage and Hughes followed suit. Red sparks suddenly flew across the ground and Hughes jumped slightly, a knife falling into his hand. But the sparks didn’t do anything hostile (as if stabbing the sparks would’ve been helpful). When they disappeared, the space between the two men had been transformed into a map of Amestris. Thin, deeper lines ran through the country in what Hughes recognized as being a transmutation circle, the same one that he’d been looking into before the long-fingernail lady had attacked him.

“Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, do you know what a philosopher’s stone is made of?” Hughes shook his head. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Human souls taken from living humans, effectively killing them and forcing their souls to spend as long as the stone lasts in endless torment and agony. The purpose of this transmutation circle is to effectively turn the entirety of Amestris into a Philosopher’s Stone.”

Hughes heart stopped in his chest. No. He was on a train heading hundreds, thousands of miles away from the family he should be evacuating from the country. That was his first thought. But reason didn’t waste any time to catch up. His family was important to him, but he couldn’t simply ignore everybody else in Amestris. He took a deep breath and let it out, clearing his immediate thoughts out of his mind to focus.

“Okay. What are you going to do about it?” Hughes looked into Hohenheim’s eyes before looking back down at the map. The transmutation circle was erased by the red lights, leaving the map and the five points that had been on the edge of the circle. New lines spread out from them, creating a star-like formation. “When the Promise Day comes, the day the circle is set into motion, my own circle will activate that will reverse it and send the souls back to their rightful bodies. In order to do this, we’ll need to place a Philosopher’s stone on each of the points. I’ve already placed them here and here,” Hohenheim pointed to the top and the top-left holes, “Which leaves three more. It’s extremely important that they are placed in exactly the right spot, otherwise they the circle will fail.”

“And you have the necessary stones?” Hughes asked, more than a bit suspiciously. Hohenheim’s hand rummaged around in his pocket before pulling out his closed fist. He opened it to reveal not just three, but six philosopher’s stones. For the third time in the past few minutes Hughes had to use a large amount of self control not to jump across the map and attack the alchemist. Six philosopher’s stones, all of which would require human lives to be sacrificed for them to be made. But Hughes had to not jump to conclusions, not right now. The ex-military man’s voice was cold as he asked, “Where’d you get those?” 

“From the man who started this whole mess.” Hohenheim said grimly. His eyes were clouded regret and grief as he stared down at the red stones in his hands. His hand clenched around them again, knuckles white. “If I can do something,  _ anything, _ good with them, prevent this disaster from happening…” Hohenheim let out a quick breath, putting the stones back into his pocket. “You should get some rest. When the train stops, we’ll be travelling on foot for a long time.” On the opposite side of the carriage the red transmutation lights created a bed as they erased the map from the floor and created a window in wall next to Hohenheim. “I’ll stay up a little later.”

It took Hughes hours to fall asleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Van Hohenheim hadn’t moved from his place.

Hughes thought about the six philosopher’s stones, the red alchemy, the lack of movement from the man when transmuting. 

He checked to make sure his knives were still in his sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, Hopefully we'll get more action in later chapters.  
> I just really wanted to show that Hughes is too good of a father not to leave his daughter without saying goodbye (hohenheim and hughes differ in this respect of who would be able to stop them from leaving). I also wanted to show off how Roy and Gracia are working with the news. There'll probably be more of them later, and perhaps even ed and al in the next chapter o3o  
> Please tell me if you have anything you think would be cool in this!

**Author's Note:**

> alright, au i have an idea for  
> really short first chapter, but hopefully they'll get longer


End file.
